Single Lady Habits

It is my experience that the more space a single lady has to herself, the more Single Lady Habits she is likely to develop.

Sitting on the counter while brushing, flossing, washing, primping:
Because who would want to stand at the counter when the Good Lord gave us perfectly symmetrical buttocks upon which we may sit? The answer: no one. No one with perfectly symmetrical buttocks, that is.

Cat talking:
I don't have a cat and I never will, if only because this one is a slippery slope and a place from which one can never return.

Ubermeal.
Sometimes:
Breakfast=breakfast
lunch=lunch
dinner=dinner

But sometimes
10pm=ubermeal

Ninja Skills:
I'm not sure what else to call this, so let's just call it what it is. I'm convinced that law enforcement should hire more women based purely on the life skills we pick up as we walk, travel, and sit alone. I can't bench more than a kilo, but on an hour-long walk, I can identify each person I've seen within seven blocks of me, their relative location to me currently, their direction and rate of travel, and how to incapacitate them if necessary. As a single girl traveling alone, I've picked up the habit of memorizing brief descriptions or license plate numbers of the strangers/drivers who "playfully" harass me, just in case they commit crimes later. I can fire a gun better than some boys I know and know that pepper spray is not to be taken lightly. I also know that a Kubotan is not a thing.

Quirky night time rituals:
Sitting on the counter while brushing my teeth, serial-killer sheet masks, and midnight yoga in the middle of my bedroom floor. Also knowing that nothing about this is quirky because roughly 100% of single women do this.

Randomly rearranging furniture:
Not long after moving out of my parent's house, I discovered that, given enough time and effort, I can move a couch and even a television without boy help. Now, whenever I get really bored, I rearrange the living room. I admit that I'm a little ashamed that it took me twenty something years to discover this.

Single lady cooking habits:
Having the same thing for dinner four nights a week and no one can complain about it. Or, if I'm feeling particularly lazy, dinner leftovers for breakfast and cookies from last week for dinner.
#Healthfood.

Interracial Dating

Like most people aimlessly perusing social media, you may encounter frequent Facebook recommendations of 'Pages you may like'. These pages usually shuffle about depending upon your internet usage and profile stats, etc. Also, if you delete a particular page out of disinterest, it tends to go away. If you don't know how the internet works, you may be wondering how Facebook is so specific with their ad targeting and page suggestions. The simple answer is cookies. 

Not lovely, sweet, soft, chocolatey cookies, but cookies in the form of little software bots.
I like to imagine them like this:

Essentially, sites like Facebook drop little cookies on your computer (or phone or whatever device you're using) and these adorable (?) guys gather information about your online activities and report it back to the mothership. The home site then uses this information to recommend ads and "Pages you may like!", with the hope of better catching your interest.

The cookies have been hard at work on my computer and have unearthed the following identifying information:

My status is set to single.

I do about half of my online searches in 한국어, the other half in English

My Google search history is centered mostly around the following:
Pictures of Korean food
Naver 사전
How to get away with not washing my hair for another day
(모모모) 가사
Class-related minutiae

And questions like
Who the heck is andrew garfield?
What is the etymology of the phrase 'open sesame'? 
and
When were goldfish domesticated?

Based on this information, Facebook whipped up the following:

"You may like: Interracial Dating!"

More accurately, Facebook has decided to remind me daily that I "may like Interracial Dating", despite my persistence that I would rather not take advice on my life decisions from an army of cookies.

But thanks for lookin' out for me, Facebook.





P.S. Gotchya.

1, 2, 3, Korea!

I counted, and there are fourty-three things on my to-do list. Not a single one has to do with school. If I included those, the list would be a lot longer.
Passport, Visa, Immunizations, Flight plans, Scholarships, Insurance, etc., etc.
I think this is one of those things I won't believe is happening until I'm sitting in a desk on 경희 campus.

Have you ever?

Wow. 오랜만이다

I'd practically forgotten that I write here sometimes. A quick shout out to some soul in Germany who is apparently the only reader of this blog (Guten Tag! Vielen Danke!). Thanks for reminding me that I should update this.

Speaking of updates, have you ever taken a step back from life and realized that where you are now is absolutely nowhere close to where you expected you would be two weeks ago, six months ago, two years ago, five years ago? Have you ever not been sure how you feel about that?
Nine months ago, I was set on a career path and felt passionately compelled to pursue it. I had a rough idea of where I might be in five years. But after six months of taking the first steps toward realizing that aspiration, nearly all aspects of that process had blown up in my face (Or rather, in a fiery crash. Just kidding, there was no fire.). I ended up being diverted to a vastly different course and having vastly different opportunities and experiences, which have actually been very rewarding.
(Exhibit A: 이제 한국말 할 수 있어요^^)

So now I find myself wondering: what is the honorable and appropriate course of action? At what point do grand dreams accept defeat in favor of more realistic outcomes? Is it more noble to magnify one's natural abilities or to diligently pursue grand ambitions which seem just outside of one's reach? Have you ever chosen between the two and regretted it? As far as I can tell, the right answer depends on who you ask.

In any case, if I ever become a productive member of society, I'll be sure to let you know.

Good Sabbath,
좋은 날 보내세요~~

Phlegm Symphony

I've spent so much time in the Testing Center this semester, I've almost gotten to the point of enjoying the distinctive sounds of the Grant: papers being rustled, cold air being circulated, the occasional stapler being pounded, and someone speaking too loudly just as a student throws open the door.

But today, the normally hushed testing hall sounded a lot like this (mild profanities excluded):

Naked Christmas

I'm going to come right out and say that this post really has nothing to do with naked Christmas. Rather the title of the post is a lazy marriage of the following two concepts:

1) I dropped the word 'naked' in my last post and left it there without explanation.

2) I can no longer resist the imminent Christmas spirit. It is October 10th.

Let me first begin by explaining why one should never, ever, ever mess with me when I'm naked. Some weeks ago, I was taking a quick shower before running to class. At this same time, and without my knowledge, Pervy Realtor was showing Unsuspecting Couple around the unit in another desperate attempt to sell. (Now, according to state ordinance, our management company is required to notify us before showing the unit. They do not make a habit of doing this.) I finished my shower and as soon as I shut off the water, I could hear the Realtor and guests walking around. It was obvious that they had been poking around for a while, and it must have been obvious to them that I had just turned off the shower. I was the only person home and the front door had been locked, so I did not lock the bathroom door before beginning my shower. I assumed it must be obvious to Pervy Realtor & Co. that the only occupied room in the hall must be the one with the shower in it (bonus points for the light being on and the shower having been on a mere 15 seconds earlier). But alas, I had just begun the toweling process when the whole company threw open the door. And there I was -in all my naked grandeur. I didn't say anything, nor did they. I only gave them the angriest eyebrows I could muster as they retreated. I should clarify by saying that I don't necessarily have a problem with nakedness. I happen to hate clothing more than I dislike being naked. But if you're not invited to this party, I will hate you forever for crashing -even if you are an Unsuspecting Couple and especially if you are a Pervy Realtor.
They did not buy. He did not close. Management has hired a notification service.

Merry October Christmas.

Matters of Primary Importance

Remember that one time I didn't post for almost five months? Yeah, sorry about that. In fact, I believe I've broken the first and [arguably] only rule of blogging:

Put words on this page.

In distantly related news, I've decided that if there were a book about how to interact with me, rule number one would surely be:

Don't mess with me when I'm naked.

More on that at a later time.

I have no explanation for what motivated me to throw back the covers, flick on the bedside lamp and start writing this post after such a hiatus or even what induced the hiatus in the first place. These past months have been strange. Have you ever felt like every day is exactly the same, only to realize in retrospect how much has happened and how radically things have changed in such a short period of time?

So, here follows a brief summary of most notable recent events:

• I had a twenty-first birthday. Every year since my thirteenth birthday, I can remember being asked if I felt any different now that I was a year older. Every year, since turning thirteen, I've felt just the same. This year, no one asked me if I felt any different. And this year, for the first time, I did. 
• I pulled straight A's in my pre-nursing classes and enjoyed them thoroughly -more than any classes I've ever taken, with a few choice psych dept. exceptions. I decided that I didn't want to be a nurse.
• I've killed more large spiders while living in this apartment than I have during the past twenty years of my life combined.
• I made a really big decision about where I want to be in ten years and what I want to be doing with the next ten years of my life. I don't think anyone has ever asked me what I "want to be when [I] grow up". And it took me a few years and a lot of serious thought (and a dash of panic here and a pinch of desperation there...) to finally arrive here. But with all honesty, now that I've made this decision, I can't see myself anywhere else. You know that feeling you get when you're training for a marathon or a half? Whenever you're not running, all your body wants to do is run. It's the same when you're dancing  fifteen+ hours a week. Every second you don't spend dancing, your body craves the space around you. That's the closest thing I can equate this feeling to. I've never felt this way about school or a career before, but whenever I'm awake (and sometimes when I'm asleep) every part of me needs it. I can almost feel it physically propelling me forward, pulling me outside of myself. It's simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. I love it. 
• I listened to the Garden State soundtrack about fifty-three bajillion times.

Until soon,